The Happiest Days of Our Lives - Tales from the Greenshroud
by Jiago Brandtail
Summary: What if Braggio Ironhook had not been killed by Razzid Wearat? What adventures would the crew of the Greenshroud face with the intelligent ferret in charge? Writings from the crew's journals record the tale of how the Greenshroud's fate might have differed from the way things went in The Rogue Crew. Hoping to write in short chapters frequently. Reviews and suggestions welcome!
1. The Beginning - Braggio Ironhook

Braggio Ironhook's journal, day… one, I suppose.

I've decided to start keeping a record of our lives, now I've become captain of the Greenshroud. With the repairs to the ship completed and Razzid Wearat slain, our future seems full of opportunity.

The creepy git Razzid tried to knock my block off at the party we had a few nights ago. Thankfully the crew preferred having me around, since I'm obviously smarter and better looking. If they hadn't sprung to my aid, I shudder to think what ill-formed misadventure that weird creature would have taken them on. His plan to strike the High North Coast was dumber than a soup fork.

I have to admit, my designs for the ship are ambitious. Attaching giant wheels to a seagoing vessel has never been attempted before. I'm almost certain that the same principle that moves a cart can work on a much larger scale. Each axle is fashioned from a thick tree trunk. The wheels themselves could crush a beast flat.

There has been a slight complication though. The wheels and axles are heavy, and cause a lot of resistance in the water. The Greenshroud is barely reaching a crawling speed even on a blustery day. I can only hope that the vessel goes faster on land, which I think would be ironic.

Once we test out the wheels on land, we shall roam wherever I please. No refuge is safe from the Greenshroud, no plunder will be unspoilt by me, Captain Ironhook! Unless the plunder is on top of a mountain, of course. I have some doubts about this ship's ability to climb even a gentle slope.

Shekra seems to think my scheme will work. She is our Seer vixen. She occasionally tells dirty jokes, and dances if you get her drunk enough. I'd better make sure she doesn't read this. Before we left she started having visions of us making her way up a beach. She said she was seeing the future.

One of the searats, Dirgo, said that wasn't really a vision of the future, because the only way we could possible get on land is by a beach. So it's not really a mystical prediction, she's just stating the obvious.

I'm convinced Shekra is magic though. She threw some coloured stones about and did her crazy dance. That seems like very solid evidence. Nobeast waves her tail around like an electric eel and steps on everyone's footpaws unless they mean business.

She also said she could see red stone walls and a bell tower in the distance. I think she knows something I don't. I'll press her for more information later. Dirgo and Mowlag both reckon her visions are a load of cobblers. I just hope her predictions are right, magic or not.

Now Jiboree is banging at the door saying dinner is ready. I don't know what his problem is, I'm the captain and I can eat when I like. But I'd better go before it gets cold.


	2. Striking the Mainland - Jiboree

Bosun Jiboree's log, sixth day at sea.

That stoat Crumdun makes my blood boil. Six days back aboard the shady green one, and he's already yanking my tail. Watching him scoff his vittles is revolting. Fat greedy slug, I've got my eye on him. I reckon he nicks stores and has himself a private feast. I haven't caught him yet, but he's a thief, I'd bet solid gold on it.

We struck the mainland today. Captain Ironhook had all sails to the wind as we sped to shore. The lads were right nervous about charging straight for the beach. It doesn't feel right in a big ship like this. The shoreline drew closer and we could hear the waves crashing on the wet sand.

Our front wheels hit the shore hard. Everybeast hit the deck. I think Mowlag screamed, but that's off the record. The wheels must've dug into the sand, because we didn't get any further. The Greenshroud just sat in the water. I could hear the timbers creaking loudly, but no movement up the beach.

At midday the captain gave up and ordered boats to be lowered. With ropes attached from boats to the stern of the ship, we managed to tow her back out offshore. I can tell the captain's upset that his idea didn't work. He got all moody and shut himself up in his cabin.

We've put down the anchor for now. There's mutterings amongst the crew that the modifications are useless. Shekra's doing her bit to quell the rumours, and Mowlag's inspecting the wheels for damage.

I feel uneasy though. Dirgo spotted movement in the dunes after we'd dropped the anchor. I didn't see any beast, but I know there's rabbits in these parts. Rabbits ain't so tough on their own, but they've always got friends. If there's one thing I learned from the raid on the High North Coast, don't underestimate your enemy. I reckon that's what old Razzid did. Thought the sea otters would be a pushover.

Then he thought he could kill Braggio – the captain, I mean, without a fight. As if we'd want Razzid to still be our captain, after his failure killed half our mates. I know the captain takes credit for the death of Razzid. But I know who skewered that ugly mutant with a scimitar. It was me. I killed Razzid Wearat.

Over the past few days I've been seeing Razzid in my nightmares. His crooked, misshapen features twisting into a snarl as he leaps at me. I reach for my scimitar but it's not there. Then Razzid turns into a big sea otter, and I see a rabbit with black fur, and a house made of red stone. The rabbit is saying something, but I can't hear him. I'll have to ask Shekra what it all means.

Tonight, I'll be watching the dunes. There's no beast on land friendly to a corsair. Even a bunch of rabbits would gut us if they got the chance.


	3. A Small Skirmish - Shekra

Shekra's report to Cpt. Ironhook, 7th day of our Intrepid Voyage.

Here's the butcher's bill, Captain. This is the most bloodsoaked document I've written since my initiation ritual. I had to do an essay on stargazing and seer stones right after the practical exam of sacrificing a family of ravens to Vulpuz, Lord of Hellgates. I hope you appreciate the effort it takes to read the future!

Of the threescore and four souls aboard Greenshroud, seven have perished at the paws of the foebeasts during the ambush. The attack came when the crew were towing the Greenshroud onto land using ropes. Their wounds were mostly the result of sling stones aimed at the head, causing impact fractures. On the positive side, I was able to confirm three of them actually did possess brains, whereas we had previously assumed them so stupid as to have none at all.

Twenty-eight souls reported injured after the skirmish, though I believe more are experiencing fatigue from mental as well as physical duress. If I start using words too big for you, captain, please refer to the Mossflower 1st Edition Dictionary you're currently using as a doorstop.

Most injuries were from stones striking paws, arms, and so on. A few patients reported they had been kicked in the chest or stomach by the rabbits. In my opinion, their stomachs will recover. Their dignity, however, will not.

If I might be so bold, captain, we are corsairs. We fear no raging tides, no monsters of the deep, we bow to no landlubber and we certainly do not get trounced by a group of fat rabbits wearing monocles. Why do I have to deal with twenty eight blubbering yellow-bellied cowards whining about how much it stings getting hit by a stone?

The biggest coward of all is First Mate Mowlag. I usually don't point claws and lay blame, but it seems to me our losses are his fault. He was in charge of towing out the ship. He had no sentries on guard, despite Bosun Jiboree warning us about the rabbit settlement nearby.

When the attack began, Mowlag was seen hiding at the rear of the action. He should have led from the front and shown those rabbits what corsairs are made of. They should think us made of steel, not seaweed! Mowlag hung back like a wet blanket. He should be punished.

I have some good news, though, captain. Jiboree and Wigsul dragged one of the dead rabbits aboard. It's a fat one, fresh and tender. I suggest you make your way to the galley sharpish and pick out which bit you want, because Badtooth and I are cooking this overfed stiff for lunch.

As for our slain crewmates, I suggest we give their bodies to the sea and read them their last rites. It will help ease the pain of their loss. Some of them were popular, and have friends missing them. Others had no friends, and nobeast gives a toss that they're gone.

Shekra


	4. Sail by Land - Braggio Ironhook

Braggio Ironhook's journal, day twelve of our journey.

The crew are quiet. It's been like this since we made landfall. There haven't been any raucous nights, no songs of the Slaughter of the Crew of the Rusty Chain, no drinking contests or pinning the tail on the squirrel. Every beast is uneasy, keeping their mouths shut and their ears perked.

It's unnatural to see a ship in a sea of trees. The Greenshroud now sails across the land, as I said it would. It's hard to navigate, even by daylight. The ship moves slowly, it's noisy, and every jolt and bump along the way makes the timbers creak. We've mostly been sticking to dirt tracks through the forest, cutting our way through overhanging branches.

By night, though, the tension increases threefold. The forest is dimly lit by the moon. But these last two nights, it has been cloudy. The forest is pitch black. The rustle of the leaves in the wind is our only clue as to our path. We inch forward at a walking pace. My heart jumps to my throat every time an unseen branch smacks against the hull, and cracks like a snapped bone.

Mowlag has come to my cabin the past two nights to demand that we anchor the ship and stop during the night. If we hit a bog, or a large ditch, we'll be finished. If we veer off the winding forest paths into the trees, the Greenshroud will be wrecked. I answer that we cannot stop. If we stop, we'll be vulnerable to attack. We will move stealthily, unseen in the dark.

It is a risk, I admit. Mowlag is very knowledgeable about the different ways we could crash and die. Shekra insists he's a no-good coward, but he's the best beast for his job. Say what you will, he knows his way around this ship.

Redtail found something of interest on his watch. It seems we've had a stowaway on board since the ambush. A little hedgehog maid! She's rather tricky to pick up without spiking your paws, and she speaks in a funny accent. She was wearing a green dress, but it's mud-coloured now. We'll have to find her a new outfit and burn the mud-dress, but she's too small for our spare rags. Strangely, there aren't any clothes for kits on board a corsair ship! We shall have to invade a seamstress's house.

Her name is Posybud, but refuses to answer where she is from. Redtail said she let slip that she'd been captured by some beast called Snaggs, a local petty gang leader. She must have escaped as we were passing by. She refuses to talk to me though. I think my hook scares her.

Posy's been put in Mowlag's quarters for now, she dislikes him the least. She's too scared of me to stay in my cabin, and I'm too scared Shekra will sacrifice, and/or eat her if she's not guarded. I wouldn't put it past that vixen.


	5. A Weasel's Worries - Jiboree

Bosun Jiboree's log, fourteenth day sailing.

Mowlag's new pet is rubbing me the wrong way. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind pitching that shrieking hogmaid overboard. Shame the Captain's going easy on her. I don't get Braggio's plan one bit. He keeps saying she'll be 'leverage' for when the time comes. What time? What lever? Are we going to use her to force open a door or something? Nobeast tells me nothing around here.

I asked Shekra about my dreams. She looked at me like I was completely off my rocker, and said I was just having stupid nightmares about getting killed by woodlanders. All corsairs get that, especially us weasels. We have a natural tendency to fear our prey turning around and hunting us instead. It comes of being small meat-eaters. The instinct to kill, and the fear of bigger hunters.

Her explanation put me at ease, but it doesn't explain the red stone house I saw. When I mentioned it, Shekra didn't seem to have an answer. She just stared at me, then kicked me out of her cabin. I think she's hiding something from me. Am I a Seer? I didn't do no exams or nothing, or sacrificed birds to Vulpuz. I just see this house and I know it's real. It's somewhere out there in the forest. It's like destiny, or fate. I'm sure it's getting closer in my dreams.

Still keeping a close watch on Crumdun, and our food supplies. I reckon that fat stoat's made good mates with our equally oversized cook, Badtooth. Maybe the cook's slipping him extra food. No proof yet though. I think Crumdun knows he's being watched.

His cackling laughter is stuck in my head. Why's he so cheery? We've been crawling through this forest for days without stopping, nearly getting stuck every couple of hours. There's nothing to be happy about on this ship.

Except Posy, that is. For some reason, Mowlag and Crumdun have got it into their thick skulls that we're adopting the little brat. Mowlag takes food to her in his cabin like she's an empress. Crumdun keeps chatting inanely with her and telling her boring stories about his family and how his mother abandoned him. They both act like her personal bodyguards.

Yesterday, the captain ordered me to bring Posy to him for more questioning. I tried to grab her but she spiked my paws and ran off to Mowlag. The crew were laughing as I chased her across the deck, sucking my bleeding paws. Then Mowlag shoved me over and shouted at me. He said I shouldn't scare little hedgehog maids.

My cheeks are still burning from the humiliation. He's undermining my authority in carrying out the captain's orders, and he made me look a fool in front of everybeast! Why does the whole ship's company actually like having some snotty kit around?

I'll be taking the night watch soon, trying to avoid sleeping as long as I can. The nightmares are getting worse.


	6. Secret Talents - Shekra

Shekra's diary, sixteenth day of our meandering journey.

Head hurts. Braggio got me drunk. Did I do the silly dance? I bet he got me to do the silly dance. Hate him, hate him, hate him. Ferrets. Who knows what they're thinking behind those fuzzy masks. Fuzzy masks…

Feeling a bit better now. Last night is coming back to me, and yes, I must've been dancing on the table again. Every beast in the ship's galley was smirking cheekily at me when I went to get some water. I can't handle my rum that well, if I'm honest with myself. I remember sometime past midnight, I went wobbling and swaying up to the forecastle to be sick over the anchor.

As I hunched up over the gunwale and tried to regain my balance, I heard something. At first I thought it was just some weird noise in the woods. I looked up, hearing it come from above me, atop the foremast crow's nest. After a while, I realised the noise was actually somebeast singing.

I don't mean singing in the ordinary corsair's use of the word. Not bawdy rhyming or drunken slurring. I mean somebeast was properly vocalising, actually caring about pitching notes musically, and using lyrics entirely unrelated to the consumption of alcohol or the spilling of blood.

It struck me that they were really good at it. That's saying a lot for a corsair. There isn't exactly a great amount of talent for the arts when you keep the company of seafaring marauders, arsonists and kleptomaniacs. It took me the longest time to work out who it was.

It was the stoat lookout, Redtail. While every other beast was asleep or playing pin the tail on the squirrel (sadly we haven't had a live squirrel in months), Redtail opens his voice to the sky and sea. Since it was so late, nobeast heard him. It was a haunting, enchanting melody. Where did he learn that? Why's he kept it secret?

I don't think I'll tell anybeast else. It'll be my secret too. It's just so unexpected; I want to ask him about it. It makes me wonder what his life was before he became a corsair. He's like me; he wasn't born into a seafaring family. He joined up of his own accord.

There's an unwritten rule that we don't ask each other about our old lives before becoming corsairs. I might break that rule though.

I suppose I'd better write this down before I forget; Bosun Jiboree came to see me. Claimed he'd dreamt of Redwall, though he doesn't even know the place's name. He said he can see it coming closer. I've never met anybeast with the Sight that wasn't a fox. I dismissed it as merely a dream.

I'm not sure why Jiboree of all beasts would have visions, he seems such a plain, plodding sort of uncle-figure to the crew when he's not making a fool of himself. Better keep an eye on him.


	7. Preparing a Speech - Braggio Ironhook

Braggio Ironhook's journal, day twenty-one of our journey.

Shekra and I have been discussing her visions again. She sees me stand astride the parapets of a red stone castle. Redwall, as it is named, is destined to be our home. Whilst it saddens me to think that our days as corsairs might be coming to an end, it makes sense to those of us a little longer in the tooth.

After a certain age, you don't get faster or stronger. Too many of our crew are young and careless; they're the firebrands brandishing cutlasses, who think they cannot die. They wear red neckerchiefs and put on swaggers and boastful airs. So very like a young ferret sailor that got his paw sliced off by a sea-otter's blade.

Enough of this fond reminiscing. Whilst Shekra and I have been talking with Jiboree and Mowlag about battle plans, I haven't as yet come up with my battle speech. Ordinarily I don't get much to say before a fight other than 'We're under attack!' or 'Surprise! We're attacking!'. However, I think we'll have some time before the assault when I can say a few words. I might as well draft my speech here.

My sea rats and wave weasels, sailing stoats and ferocious ferrets! Corsairs, seascum, and our partner in crime, Shekra the Seer. For weeks we have toiled over the building of this ship. We've sailed by sea and by land. We sought plunder and fame, well here it is. Redwall lies before us!

Know ye not of Redwall? Let me furnish you with a description of the property. Situated on the stone ruins of Kotir, it has a rustic décor and commanding views of the River Moss. Several hundred bedrooms, banquet-capable kitchens and the historic Great Hall, complete with ornate tapestries.

The most attractive feature of this countryside manor is the rivers of gold, good food and fine living currently in possession of the tenants. Ordinarily such an illustrious property would cost an arm and a leg, but today lads, we're taking it for free!

Our battle plan has taken into account likely enemy strategies. We will be prepared for any hot-porridge-based forms of attack. We shall take Redwall much as if she were a ship at sea. Sharpshooters with your bows will climb to the tops to sweep the walls of the enemy. Ballista crews will provide similar support.

The second part of the plan is to secure said walltops. Using our boarding planks, First Mate Mowlag will take a group of corsairs, with the best armour and weapons we have, over to capture a section of the wall. Archers will then follow us and rain arrows down on any foebeast below. We shall use their walls against them!

I assume most of the Redwallers will die in the battle, so the rest of the plan is mostly mopping-up duty. Hopefully no huge armies of shrews, otters, squirrels, rabbits or an elite band of warriors turns up in the meantime.


	8. Desertion, Part 1 - Jiboree

Jiboree's log, day thirty five of our voyage, day fourteen of my escape.

Three days into Mossflower Woods. I've deserted them.

I've deserted the Greenshroud.

It started the evening of the sixteenth. I was feeling a bit miserable Shekra couldn't tell me more about the red stone house. I went to the forecastle to fetch some of the strong stuff. Seaweed grog, so strong we used it as paint thinner when we were fixing the Greenshroud. I needed to get that stupid vision out of my head.

Crumdun was there. He was hunched over one of the portholes, holding something in his paws. I should have left, or ignored him. I marched up to him and asked him what he was doing. It was only then I realised he was holding a rope. I looked out the porthole. He had slung Posy in it, helping her escape.

"She's just a kit," he said. He looked at me, I looked at him. What was I supposed to do? Haul her back in? I wanted her gone! Should I have raised an alarm? Those questions kept me from sleeping for a week. Crumdun looked so afraid, and the little maid below was obviously fighting back tears. They thought I was going to kill them both, or recapture Posy.

I helped Posy down to the ground, clear of our still-moving wheels. As I hauled the rope up, Crumdun began to fasten it around his waist. He said, simply, "I'm going too."

It made sense. Crumdun couldn't tell a convincing lie to save his life. Which is what he would have to do, if he stayed. I hated this chubby stoat, but everything was changing now. His life was in my paws, and I couldn't justify killing him. Crumdun was still a shipmate. You don't knife your shipmates, not even the ones you don't like.

So, he was next. I lowered him, my arms straining from the weight. Good thing I'm an outdoors sort of weasel, or he would have dropped like a stone. Unfortunately, this whole operation had taken too long. One of the lookouts started shouting. I could hear raised voices approaching the forecastle.

Now my life was on the line! I'd been spotted helping a prisoner escape and a shipmate desert. Somehow I doubted Braggio Ironhook would be in the mood to spare my life. Even if he did, it would mean loss of rank, maybe torture or even being thrown in the brig for a season. I made another snap decision, and followed that fat stoat out the window.

Weasels are tough. Corsairs are tough. I'm both, and the landing wasn't too bad. I only hurt my wrist. My non-writing paw, of course. Posy apparently knew how to make a splint for it. What do they teach kits these days? Anyway, it's no problem. Like I said, I can take the pain. It's gotten a lot better, since two weeks have passed.

Now Posy, Crumdun and I are travelling together.


	9. Desertion, Part 2 - Jiboree

Jiboree's log, day thirty five of our voyage.

We're only travelling together until I decide what I want to do. I've been at sea all my life; it even feels strange to walk through the forest. No swept decks, or salty breeze. Instead, grass and fallen leaves under our footpaws, and the breeze carries odd scents of plants.

Posy's opened up a bit more to us now we're no longer her captors. She says she's from the red stone house, which is called Redwall. She explains about it being a peaceful settlement. She doesn't know if it's open to corsairs, or ex-corsairs. The last time they opened the doors to ex-corsairs, some kind of plague broke out and one of the residents got shot.

I'm not sure I'd want to go at all though. Some of what she describes sounds really boring. Apparently there's no dancing on tables, drinking contests, tail-pinning games, card games based on cheating, or even the odd brawl or two. Instead they just… eat. And in between, plan more reasons to eat again.

I've tried probing this point a little deeper, but Posy's not very helpful beyond her detailed ramblings of how great the food is. I barely have any working taste buds, so I'm not overly thrilled. I think Crumdun's now having eating dreams. He keeps trying to eat the air in his sleep.

Apart from food, they have an archive, which is a fancy word for big room full of books and papers and such. But nobeast reads them because most of them are stone dead dull. Except the ones with lots of blood in them!

This still doesn't answer what else they do with their time. Posy keeps mentioning 'bathtime', but I gather this is some bizarre event where beasts are dropped into a vat of boiling water. I can't believe Crumdun's so enthusiastic about living there.

As for me, I'll keep our group together until we get there. Crumdun has no sense of direction, and I can't leave him alone, with a little maid, in the middle of nowhere. That would be as good as leaving them to die.

I doubt Braggio will waste time sending out a search party for us. He's been bending every sail to get the ship further inland. The trouble is, he's headed for Redwall. Crumdun and Posy don't know, they weren't in on the secret meetings. But I've seen the battle plans. It looks bad for Posy's friends.

I'll have to tell them about it eventually. They can warn Redwall, maybe save the place from destruction. I'm not so sure I want to be on the wrong side of Braggio and the crew though. The corsairs are a deadly, skilful lot. What can a few overstuffed recluses do? I hate to even think it, but it seems Posy's peaceful settlement is done for. Apparently they've only got one sword, though Posy insists it's a really special one. Shame there'd be nobeast skilled enough to wield it.


	10. Highest Yardarm - Shekra

Shekra's report to Captain Ironhook, Day twenty-two of our Intrepid Voyage.

Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayed us!

Captain Ironhook, the common feeling amongst the crew is that we cannot tolerate the desertion, betrayal and prisoner escape that occurred yesterday. It was carried out by our former Boatswain and Official Duty Officer of the Watch (From five to seven bells first dogwatch), the weasel named Jeremiah "Jiboree" Spinnaker, and our former… useless blob, the stoat named Crumdun (I checked the records, that is his real name).

Blood, my captain. Weasel blood! Stoat blood! The crew of the Greenshroud is a proud and warlike company, and we cannot allow our reputations to be soiled by these traitors! There are certain rules when it comes to back-stabbing, captain, and they didn't even fill out a safety form for that stunt with the rope.

I recommend we send out our fastest beasts to track them down. I doubt they'll stay together very long. Jiboree with no doubt realise that the fat one and the hogmaid are slowing him down. He's strong and fast, he will be the hardest to track if we give him long enough of a headstart. The other two should be easy to hunt.

Once the traitors are back on board, we can see them hang from the highest yardarm our good captain can provide. Their bodies should make interesting decorations for when we reach Redwall. The sight of two traitor's corpses swinging gently in the breeze will surely ruin the appetites of our enemies for combat. And just ruin their appetites, too.

Shekra's report to Captain Smileymask, day fffffortyfiftysomething of our international voyeurage.

Oh my captain! How the light of the moon dances in your eyes. How it shines off your hook as you brush my tail with it. Careful, actually, I don't need a tail shave. I feel all bubbly and lightheaded which means too much rum. Hah. Never enough rum! More rum, till it's all gone.

I am writing to deeply, respectfully and fluffily offer my deepest apologetics, condolences and hysterical giggling about the fact our search party failed to locate the miscreants. It's been a fortnight, and Jiboree, Crumdun and Posy have disappeared into the forest. I take full responsibility for advising you to pursue them instead of going to the abbey.

Please don't cut off my head, because then you won't have a seer or a healer, and I won't be able to drink all the lovely bubbly stuff that you keep filling my mug with. You do that a lot, captain. Don't think I haven't noticed, I'm not as think as you drunk I am. But I don't mind because secretly I'm scared you're the only friend I have on board, so I keep drinking to make you happy. Everybeast else thinks I'm nuts.

I'm not going to send you this letter, captain. But it felt good writing that down. Got to find more drink. No sense saving it. There'll be rooms full of ale at Redwall…


End file.
